Nightmares
by darkraven1990
Summary: Set during Heir of Fire. Rowan gets a glimpse of the Aelin's past and the reasons why she is broken.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters featured here, they belong to the wonderful Sarah J Maas._

 _A/N - This is just a little something that popped into my head amongst the other things I've been working on. I hope you enjoy it. I'd also like to thank everyone here who read and reviewed my last TOG story because your reviews made me very happy. I'm also working on a request from one anonymous reviewer so look out for that._

Prince Rowan Whitethorn was exhausted as he finally returned to his rooms at Mistward. He'd been out late again hunting for the vile creature that had arrived in these parts recently. He was having no luck however, between babysitting the girl during the day and overseeing the other trivial matters brought to him his only opportunity to catch the creature was late in the day and through the night. He had to be cautious as there were other fell creatures stalking the woods at night.

He slumped into a chair at the rough wooden table in his room and once more studied the map sprawled across its surface. He didn't know how long he was sat there but the moon was beginning its descent when he was broken from his trance by the piercing screams coming from a few levels below in the fortress.

On pure instinct the Fae warrior gabbed his sword and rushed for the door, decending quickly to the source of the sound. A female. A female was screaming and he would be damned if she came to harm while he was there to protect them. He reached the hallway and barely registered where in the fortress he was or whose rooms they were as his blood roared with the fierce need to protect.

He saw two guards at the end of the hallway, just stood as if nothing was wrong. For a moment Rowan doubted himself. Was there really a female screaming or was it his mind playing tricks on him? But the voice didn't sound like Lyria despite the similar feeling of ice that it sent through him.

The guards turned and saw him approaching.

"I heard screaming." The guards shared a look and he glared, his face darkening and fangs bared at them. He resisted the urge to just shoulder past them but every second they wasted here could mean the unknown woman's death.

"She screams almost every night Prince. We tend to just ignore it now." Rowan did not look impressed but the guards held their ground.

"Who is screaming precisely?"

"That new girl you brought in, Etlentiya I think they call her." Rowan tried not to let the surprise show on his face, he kept it hidden behind his carefully carved mask of ice.

"Did it occur to any of you that something could be attacking her while you ignore her?" Rowan didn't particularly care but if something was amiss in the fortress he needed the guards not to ignore it. The guards did look apologetic and muttered their apologies but Rowan was by her door in a flash, blade out in his hand as he listened.

The screaming had stopped but he could still hear her whimpering so he eased the door open and took a quick survey of the room. There were no creatures in the room, no dark presence, just the girl tangled in her sheets. Her face was screwed up in pain and her body twitched and writhed beneath the thin sheets. There was no fire and the room was frozen but she was still sweating profusely. He inhaled, scenting the air for any trace of danger but there was none.

Rowan turned to leave, there was nothing to be done here. He froze at the whisper of her voice in the dark.

"Please…please don't hurt him." Her voice trailed off and she tossed again. He'd never heard her voice like that, she always sounded hard and spoiled and selfish. It had been easy to hate her when she was like that but her voice just then had sounded so soft and pleading.

"Please not him… take me… please…" She was begging for someone else and the sound of that pleading in her voice, the scent of fear made him want to reach out and wake her. To tell her that it was just a dream but he wouldn't do that, couldn't because he knew that it might not have just been a dream but a memory.

So Rowan waited and he watched. He listened to her words and her cries and watched the emotions as they twisted her face. He listened to her broken voice as she called out for a phantom that wouldn't come. He listened as she pleaded not to be put in the dark. When the screaming began again he saw her flinch and curl up beneath the sheets. Her breathing changed and he knew that she would soon awaken so he walked to the window on silent feet and shifted, flying out into the night.

He should of returned to his room but he landed nearby, where he could watch her as she awoke. She sat up ramrod straight and felt under her pillow for a weapon that wasn't there. A weapon he had taken from her like the callous monster he had become over all these centuries. She cast her head about wildly, trying to sense the danger that was no longer there. She scrambled out of the bed and fumbled around for the stub of a candle in front of the empty fireplace. When it was finally alight she sat hunched over it, her whole body shivering from the cold.

It was only then in the light of the tiny flame that he realised how dark that room must be for her human eyes. She rubbed her arms and looked into the flame then whispered to herself in a tiny voice, but one full of steel and determination.

"My name is Celeana Sardothian and I will not be afraid."

He watched as she blew out the candle and climbed back into bed, pulling the thin blankets up around herself. Rowan watched until her breathing evened out and then flew back to his rooms. Once there Rowan undressed and laid back on his bed, covering himself with the warm furs and sending a breeze around the room to douse the candles. As he lay in the dark he tried to ignore the sound of her voice as it echoed in his head pleading not to be left in the dark.

Now he knew why it was so easy to hate her, why he was so hard on her when they trained. She was just like him, broken beyond repair and he hated her for it. He hated that when he looked at her and saw those dead eyes that it was like looking at his own. Every time he saw her it reminded him of what he was and how badly he had failed. She reminded him of the pain he had buried so deep beneath the layers of ice within his soul that he had been numb to everything but his duty to his Queen. Now he could feel the centuries of control slipping away as the ice cracked little by little. While his pain was frozen hers burned just like the flames in her blood. She was wildfire, completely destructive in her misery and torment.

He wondered just what had happened to the princess of Terrasen after the fall of her kingdom. For the first time he allowed himself to contemplate just what had befallen her and what she had been through. He had been there with Maeve when the news arrived that the King and Queen were dead. He remembered the callus way his Queen had asked the fate of the girl and how she had smiled when she was told how the bodies had been found with their daughter asleep between them. His queen had never believed that Aelin Ashryver Galathynus had drowned in that river.

An experience like that was enough to scar anyone but he knew there was more to the story of the lost princess than that. Rowan knew now there was more pain and suffering in her past than just the loss of her parents and kingdom. Her future would be filled with even more now, Maeve would ensure that. The girl would be broken and used for whatever his Queen wished, if Aelin refused to comply even then she would die.

Rowan lay awake until the sun rose and the fortress came alive around him. Even now with the light of dawn pouring into the room he could hear her.

"Please…don't leave me in the dark….please…don't leave me here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note – So I'd like to begin by thanking everyone who read the last chapter but especially my reviewers as this chapter is for you because you asked for more.**

 **I'd especially like to thank Flora Silverthrush for adding this story to her C2 Archive, you have no idea how much that meant to me. I hope that this chapter lives up to that.**

For the second time in as many days, Rowan found himself slumped at the table in his room at Mistward. He was glaring at the map in front of him as though the paper had caused him some sort of mortal offence but his thoughts couldn't be further away from the surface before him.

He'd lost his temper today, badly. He'd _bitten her._ He could still taste the sweetness of her blood in his mouth. She had tasted wild and warm, the heat of her still sparked within him. She was most definitely an heir of fire, her soul was like embers ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. Her flames crackled against his ice, drawing it out in an almost playful manner. It had been a heady combination and before he could stop himself he'd bitten her harder, deeper. He'd wanted more, her blood made him feel more alive than he had in centuries and awoke in him a craving he'd thought long gone.

Her growl had rumbled through him and she'd pushed with such strength that it took him by surprise and there before him was that wild creature he'd tasted. Elongated canines glimmered beneath molten eyes, her face framed by twin pointed ears. She was breathtaking, primal and _alive._ He grinned at her even as he tasted the bitterness left in his mouth, the evidence that he had just bitten the female of another even if their bond was turning putrid. He'd felt almost proud of her shift but that's when it had all gone to hell.

His magic was so close to the surface from her blood, then he'd felt hers rising up and he'd felt the need to try and draw her out. Something about that fire of hers called to him, made his magic sing. However he hadn't accounted for how afraid of her flames she was, couldn't understand how she could be afraid of something that was so much a part of her. She'd almost incinerated him and most of the surrounding area so he'd suffocated those flames, so beautiful and deadly.

He hadn't let his awe at the force of her power show, instead he'd questioned her about her lover out of some masochistic curiosity. When she'd slipped into herself, begun drowning in whatever loss had brought her here he'd lashed out at her and threatened her. He wondered if he'd ever forget those dead eyes and the vehemence of her voice as she balked at the physical punishment. He'd of thought that with the devastation of her country and family she would of learnt not to be such a spoiled brat but he was wrong.

All he seemed to be was wrong around her. He'd pushed her further; trying to harness that anger that accommodated her first shift but she'd just turned and left. He'd followed her progress in his hawk form, sharp eyes catching the glint of her hair in the sunlight. He'd confronted her again, just as badly as the first time. He'd forced her to say it and the agony of those words still ripped through him.

"Because she is dead, and I am left with my _worthless_ life!" He could easily believe that she considered herself worthless because she could not save her friend. Her friend had been good and yet it was Aelin who survived, a broken girl with the burden of fixing the world. The burden of defeating the monster that resided in a glass castle across the ocean.

He'd let her leave after that conversation, he fully expected that she would have been back by now. This was what she had wanted and after she had cooled down from her little temper tantrum she would of had to come back despite her pride. It was dark now though and there was a sick feeling in his gut that something was wrong. She had no weapons; her scent hadn't approached his rooms to retrieve the blades stashed under his bed.

So he waited. Dinner came and went, even Emrys's excellent cooking hadn't been able to remove the traces of her that still lingered on his tongue. He heard the last patrol of the night coming back through the barrier, their quiet chatter as they discussed the news with those on the wall rising above the sound of the storm that had begun. They'd seen a fire, up in one of the caves, pitied the poor soul who had lit it as it had been too far for them to get to on the patrol with the weather as it was.

Rowan clenched the edge of the table so hard that it splintered beneath his fingers. She wouldn't be so stupid as to light a fire when he'd expressly told her not to on the way here. Then he remembered the look in her eyes as she'd turned away from him and fully believed her capable of ignoring every warning sign in her misery. Once more he heard that whispered voice where it had insidiously imprinted itself on his mind.

 _Please don't leave me in the dark…_

He was out of his rooms before he'd even fully formulated a plan. He ran down the stairs, demi-fae leapt out of his path but he barely registered them. The patrol was still walking into the fortress when he reached them; he skidded to a stop directly before them. Somehow the leader managed to understand his request for the location of the fire despite all his snarling and growling. He demi-fae had barely finished speaking before Rowan had shifted and was flying swiftly in the direction given. He paid no attention to the whispers of the awestruck men and women below, just pulled on the winds to aid his flight.

He could see the firelight in the distance, a bright light on the landscape. A summons to all the fell creatures in this sprawling forest. Stupid, stupid girl. He'd kill her himself when he found her, he'd at least try to beat that arrogance out of her. If he didn't hurry though she'd be dead before he got to her.

He saw her rise from the fire and dart out into the storm and darkness of the forest. He dove down into the trees; he'd need scent to track her now. Using a flash of lightning from the storm as cover he shifted back into his fae form, landing deftly in the brush. He was immediately assaulted by the foul scent of skinwalkers. He swore and immediately shifted the wind to blow their scent away from him and to conceal his.

He scented the air, trying to pick on her location. He sweet smoky scent hit him, she was further up the slope and he was closer to her than the skinwalkers but still he couldn't tell precisely where they were. He began to move silently through the trees towards her, he could hear her running now. Her mortal body was light but not stealthy enough to escape unnoticed from those creatures. He sent a wind to shift the direction of her scent and found the hollow opening of a tree to await her.

She was close now; he could hear the heaviness of her breathing as she raced towards him. He was almost impressed with the nimbleness of her human form. He read her movements and positioned himself to catch her as she went past however he didn't prepare for the way she swung herself around the tree and straight into him. He could see her easily in the dark as she swung at him with a sharpened stick; he grabbed her wrists to prevent her from stabbing him. He gritted his teeth in frustration as she began to twist, attempting to get a kick in. She suddenly paused and he took the opportunity to drag her back into the hollow of the tree.

He ignored the way her breath felt against his face as she panted from the exertion of her desperate run downhill. He'd already thought up his plan, his magic was useless here their only chance to escape was to run. If they made it to the river then the skinwalkers wouldn't be able to follow them but that depended on Aelin shifting. He told her as much, and almost marveled when she did as he said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. He provided her with cool clean air and watched her intently even as he calculated what to do if she couldn't shift.

It would most likely lead to his own death but he would not abandon her to be pulled apart by skinwalkers. He would fight, to save this girl who did nothing but piss him off. He didn't allow himself time to analyse _why. H_ e saw something minute change in her expression and then cursed, throwing himself over her small frame to cover the light of her shift. He took in the delicate points of her ears as she covered her mouth with her hand, no doubt pushing back the nausea caused by the foul smell of those things. He listened to the forest beyond, not allowing himself to react to the words the skinwalkers hissed.

Easing away from her he explained how they would escape. He didn't look at her as he passed her a pair of his own daggers, just studied the forest before them, looking for the right moment to run. He could smell them closing in, hear their steps. He would wait until they were close then send them in the other direction to buy them time while they doubled back. They both readied themselves to run. He sent a phantom wind through the brush and as soon as the creatures gave chase he launched himself from their hiding place, Aelin close behind.

They ran and he could hear the skinwalkers turn back, but Aelin was slower than she should be. He cursed and slowed, unwilling to leave her behind. She should be faster in her fae form but she wasn't used to it and that might just kill them both. He heard her slip behind him and was steadying her before it could cost them too much time. As soon as she was running on her own again he was back in the lead, scanning the forest for their pursuers.

He could hear the roaring of the river ahead; see the lighting of the distance up ahead. He gripped his weapons tighter as he heard the slightest of movement up ahead, an ambush. He was still monitoring Aelin behind him, the others were gaining on her but he couldn't stop with one of them ahead too.

The fourth skinwalker jumped and he heard Aelin's shouted warning even as he turned and neatly decapitated the creature, centuries of combat and training allowing him to instinctively react to the attack. His pace didn't falter and he was glad when Aelin's didn't either. They were so close to the edge now, his sole focus on reaching the edge. He could hear the enraged skinwalkers behind them. Then he was hurtling over the cliff edge, Aelin's whispered plea coming too late.

He twisted to see her jump over the cliff and then look back as the three monsters jumped after her. He watched in horror, realising too late his mistake. She was looking at those creatures with fierce determination; he could feel the heat of her. When she told him to shift he didn't question it. He just shifted, swooping away from her as she threw her power out into the night.

The rain turned to steam in the wake of that brilliant blue wildfire. Their pursuers were incinerated; they barely had time to scream as they hit that wall of fire that melted the flesh they wore. The stench was rancid but Rowan only had eyes for the now unconscious girl hurtling toward the river below. She hit the surface even as he dove; grabbing her shirt in his talons he hauled her to the bank.

He shifted back into his fae form and pulled her the rest of the way out of the river. He checked her pulse and breathing before turning his attention to the fires burning above them. It took all his concentration to suffocate those fires, he was almost glad of it if only to distract him from his relief that the girl hadn't completely burnt herself out with that display. Hadn't anyone taught her anything about using her power? Had they instilled nothing but fear of it in her?

He watched her as she came around, how she looked at the burnt forest in terror. He decided in that moment with grim determination that he would teach her all he could because a gift that strong could easily destroy her. He owed her that much for saving his life. That didn't mean that he was going to go easy on her though, they were just getting started.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – So I've been working on this for a little while and found it quite difficult to write in places and I'm not entirely happy with it so please do tell me what you think.**

Chapter Three

The days passed after their fight with the skinwalkers and Rowan found them no less irritating than the days before the encounter. Aelin still could not shift on command, could not shift at all and it infuriated him. He knew that she was capable but whatever had allowed her to shift before was not something she could easily replicate. It was driving him insane, trying to figure out new ways to teach her and help her to master something so basic. It was a difficult task to teach something that had been instinctual for him for over three centuries. His own memories of those basic techniques and exercises were hazy. He doubted that they would help her anyway, he had never been afraid of his power while she had been taught to loathe everything about her heritage.

Their encounter with the skinwalkers had also made her nightmares worsen considerably and quite often he would lay awake for hours, his heightened senses picking up on her mumbling and screaming even with several floors between them. Even when he slept her voice invaded his dreams, mingling with Lyria's screams. It made it easy to hate her. Especially when all they did was waste time, sitting up in those forsaken ruins for days on end.

He had hoped when he took her there that some part of the ancient Goddess would remain to help her and guide her to the peace that would help her shift but it had gotten them nowhere. She hadn't even known where they were until that sunny day where she wandered around the area. It was perhaps one of the most civil conversations that they had ever had. He hated the sadness he saw in her eyes when she talked about wanting to see everything, the pain that draped over her young shoulders. He had called her a child, but there was nothing youthful in her eyes when she looked out over the horizon and told him that she didn't envy his long life. He didn't tell her that it was possible that she still may settle into her immortality and live far longer than she would wish to. He also didn't tell her that he envied her short lifespan.

He studied her every chance he got, trying to work out some way to get her to shift, what made her tick. She had a sharp mind, picking up on the discrepancies between his words and the storied Emrys told about the temple. Questioning the differences between the Fae she remembered and those she had met since arriving on this continent. He hated to think about the slaughter of his brethren across the sea, it was a decision that had never sat well with him. It had gone against every instinct he had not to protect his own kind no matter how distantly related they were. Maeve would not be moved though and as her blood sworn, he could not act against her orders. It was one of the few times in his life that he had regretted taking that oath. He was glad that she had not asked for more information.

Then Malakai and his men had found another body not far away and he cursed her for keeping him trapped at the fortress watching her sit on her arse when he could be out hunting this thing and saving lives. So he took her with him to see the body so that she would understand what she was keeping him from doing; what she was costing him. She was an assassin by training perhaps she would prove useful but he doubted she knew anything he hadn't already learnt over the long years. Right now though he was willing to explore any avenue in order to stop this creature, whatever it was.

To his surprise she hadn't proved completely useless. He had discounted the creature she encountered in the barrows due to the locations where the bodies had been found but once he thought about it more closely he could not ignore the similarities in the attacks. That still didn't help him figure out what exactly the wretched creature was but it was step forward, another piece of the puzzle. She had suggested speaking to the locals to find out what they knew but they didn't have the time now. Her inability to shift was trying his patience as it hindered his efforts. He'd considered it before but he knew the humans would never speak to him voluntarily. Humans had long memories when it came to wrongs against them; they were rightfully distrustful of Fae like himself. Why did this girl constantly infuriate him by bringing up the failings of his queen? There was a small part of him that wondered if she were doing it on purpose, he wouldn't put it past that calculating mind of hers.

Then she went and shocked him in a completely different manner by insisting they bury the woman's body. He left her to do most of the work, too consumed with self-loathing to offer much help. This girl who was so consumed with grief and rage, this selfish, spoiled brat of a princess was the one who had thought to do something so simple not for herself but the soul of that woman. It was horrifying to realise that he would have just left her to decompose in that stream, that he had left the others much the same. When had he become so callous?

They stood before her pitiful fire, all that she could currently offer, in silence. He called a warm breath of air to fuel the fire and consume the corpse. He silently promised the woman that he would find the creature and destroy it so that no others would meet her sad end. He wondered if Aelin had done the same. As the embers finally died the two of them began the solemn trek back to Mistward.

The next morning Rowan rose early and began his trek in the predawn light. He ran the whole way, preferring to feel the physical exertion of the journey than to fly. He found the site of the first body easily enough and it smelled even more rancid now that decay had begun to set in. No animal had disturbed the remains so he set about gathering wood for the fire and arranged if around the body just as the girl had yesterday.

He watched the pyre burn; fed by the swift winds he summoned and begged the unknown victim for forgiveness. As he stood watching the fire burn in the morning light he could have sworn that he felt a warm presence watching him with faint approval but there was nothing except the crackling flames. As the flames died down he set off once more to offer another victim their long overdue farewell.

He returned to Mistward feeling a little lighter but still frustrated for he had no idea what to do next to identify the killer. He needed more information and the only way he was going to get that was from the humans but they'd close ranks if a Fae warrior waltzed in asking questions. He had flown back to the fortress and now perched in a tree overlooking the kitchen.

The girl was stood at her customary position scrubbing dishes without complaint. He always found it jarring to watch her in the kitchens, he'd assigned her to the duty assuming that the spoiled princess would find the task demeaning but she just got on with it. She didn't speak to the others but monitored their conversations while she worked, rarely showing any interest at all. Suddenly it dawned on him that the humans may not speak with him because he was Fae but _Aelin_ appeared human for once her fragile form may prove useful.

She continued to scrub dishes as he turned the thought over in his mind, analysing how effective it may be and what the weaknesses were. First off was her attitude, all of the fae at the fortress were steering clear of her due to her unwelcoming scent but the humans would be just as off put by her sullen looks and unwelcoming body language. Maybe if he could get her in a good mood somehow.

Emrys and Luca had moved on to talking about the recent visitors to Mistward, a couple of demi-fae that were heading to the healers compound for training. If he hadn't been in his hawk form then he might have missed how Aelin suddenly froze for a few seconds and then forced herself back to her chores. He watched her carefully; she was on edge and listening closely to the conversation. He watched with keen interest, as she would start to turn her head in their direction and then catch herself. She kept this up for most of the conversation until Luca decided to pull her into it.

"Elentiya have you ever traveled to the commune?" She didn't pretend not to know what they were discussing but her reply had such an air of studied nonchalance that Rowan could immediately pick up on what she would not say.

"No I haven't." _But I've always wanted to_. He wondered why this girl would want to go to such a place. Her magic was not of a kind to learn healing and he would not have thought her patient enough to even try. She was an assassin by training, a queen by birth there was no room there to learn the art of healing but that did not mean that there had not been a desire.

 _I used to wish I had a chance to see it all_.

The commune wasn't far; they could make it there and back in a day even with Aelin still in her human skin. It rankled that he would be wasting a day in visiting the commune when that foul thing still roamed but if it got him a shot at talking to the villagers he would accept the cost. It had nothing to do with giving the girl a chance to see some small part of the world, of the good in the fae.

The next morning, dawned bright and clear and Rowan awaited Aelin outside the kitchen door. As soon as she arrived at his side he strode off into the trees without a word; she followed without question. That was how they continued for a while until her curiosity got the better of her. He couldn't help the way his lip twitched up in a smirk as her restraint finally broke.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Haven't figured it out yet princess?"

Her answering growl almost made him laugh, so predictable. He picked up his pace a little as she stomped along behind him. She was muttering faintly to herself, calling him an arrogant bastard among other things. He continued to increase his pace until she could no longer bad mouth him and continue to keep up at the same time. It was strange for Rowan to be taking the time to walk somewhere. Usually he would simply shift and fly to wherever he needed or run but he very rarely walked. He found that her pace was not as irritating as he usually found it; it was pleasant to be able to pay more notice to his surroundings.

They made good time and reached the edge of the compound by mid morning. The two of them paused just outside the perimeter, Aelin panting slightly from the exertion. Rowan watched her from the corner of his eye as he led her slowly into the complex. Her eyes darted around, taking in the simple stone buildings and the curious fae who watched their approach. She didn't miss a single detail as she kept pace with him. He saw the head healer coming towards them.

"Prince Rowan, we were not expecting a visit. I hope that there is nothing wrong?" Rowan was quick to reassure her and the woman turned her attention to Aelin who was still looking around in slight awe. Rowan noticed the shift in focus and introduced the girl while giving as little information about her.

"Elentiya, it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you like a tour of the compound?" Aelin slid him a sideways look and at his slight nod she readily accepted the offer. Rowan trailed behind them as they walked around, always watching her. He could not say that she was happy to be there, she was still too broken to show any real joy but there was a subtle change in her expressions; in her eyes. Her voice was different as well, less harsh as she peppered the healer with questions about anything and everything.

Rowan left her to her own devices while he walked around and spoke to the inhabitants of the compound, attempting to discover if any of them had noticed anything amiss recently. His enquiries came up empty however and soon it was time for them to leave, he could tell that she was reluctant but he would not take the risk of traveling back to Mistward in the dark.

Aelin was quiet on the return journey, a distinct change from her liveliness at the compound. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts so he left her to her solitude. The only words he spoke to her were outside the entrance to Mistward, informing her to prepare for an overnight trip in the morning. He swept through the kitchen grabbing a plate of food on the way and returned to his rooms.

That night was the first night that he truly dreamed of Aelin. It was not her screams that haunted his mind that night but her as she could be, as she should be. Today he had caught a glimpse of what she had been before the abyss swept her away and his mind conjured up the image of her happy and whole. He awoke with the taste of her still on his tongue, the image of her smiling mouth behind his lids. He pushed the images away, locking them down with centuries worth of control. He rolled over and punched his pillow savagely; but even as he once again drifted off to sleep a pair of smiling turquoise eyes haunted him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – So I'd like to start by once again thanking everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I feel as though this has essentially just turned into Heir of Fire from Rowan's point of view but I love that book too much to stop. Although as a result of that this chapter has some of the dialogue taken directly from the text. I've tried to use as little as possible but of course everything belongs to Sarah J Maas and I borrow her words out of love.**

 **Let me know if you enjoy it and if there are any particular scenes you'd like to see. I know some of you have already made suggestions (KateWinters97 – I will get to Beltane I promise) and I'll try my best to fit them in.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

Chapter Four

Rowan was awake before dawn, dressed and ready for their little adventure. His dreams still lurked behind his lids, dreams of a feral beauty that lay slumbering beneath that fragile human skin. He felt strange this morning, different. Something crackled beneath his skin that was not at all unpleasant, he felt as if something inside of him had loosened.

Rowan rose and walked to meet her by her rooms; he could tell from her scent that she had already stirred so he waited for her return. He shouldered the pack and started walking, choosing to ignore the faint flash of shock in her eyes. They left the fortress behind them and he turned to look at her, as the pieces clicked into place and a plan formed in his mind.

"Shift, and let's go."

"And here I was, thinking we'd become friends." He couldn't help the surprised lifting of his brows; although he knew she was being sarcastic the thought was not as abhorrent today as it should have been. She didn't even blink at the distance they were to travel. She was going to shift today, if he had to break his promise not to bite her again then so be it. The memory of her taste brought a wicked smile to his face and he wanted to run, to push himself to his limits. He wanted her to push those limits too, she had been caged in that mortal shell too long.

"And _where_ are we going?" He felt the muscles in his jaw clench at the reminder of where they were going and why. He could still clearly hear the words of the guard this morning as he was informed that they had discovered another victim. Another Demi-fae had been brutally attacked, murdered while he had been off playing nice at the healers compound. He chose his words carefully, to maximise the impact.

"There was another body - a Demi-fae from a neighbouring fortress. Dumped in the same area, same patterns. I want to go to the nearby town to question the citizens, but…" He trailed off; he'd been about to speak ill of his Queen and how she had allowed her subjects to run wild and unchecked for too long. Still if he wanted her cooperation he would need to be honest with her and play nice. "But I need your help. It'll be easier for the mortals to talk to you."

"Is that a compliment?" He noticed the slight curve of her lips and rolled his eyes at her childish attempts to antagonise him. Rowan knew that she was watching his every movement with those sharp eyes and calculating her next move. Something softened ever so slightly in her face but it vanished as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Shift, or it'll take us twice as long."

"I _can't._ You know it doesn't work like that." He could hear the petulance in her voice, and he could tell from the way her body was held that she was becoming more irritated with him. Good, he just had to push her a little more. Taunt her in just the right way by dangling the advantages in front of her; making it a competition.

"Don't you want to see how fast you can run?"

"I can't use my other form in Adarlan anyway, so what's the point?" So that was part of it then, she did not want to become dependent on something that she would lose access to as soon as she returned. However a human would not survive easily in the fae realm, surely the creatures that they had already encounter had taught her that much.

"The point is that you're here now, and you haven't properly tested your limits." He hadn't tested them either; he remembered the strength with which she had shoved him off of her when she shifted. She was strong even for a Fae, especially a Demi-Fae but that brief glimpse had not been enough to measure her worth. "The point is, another husk of a body was found, and I consider that to be unacceptable." Rowan watched the words hit home, her silent agreement shimmered in her eyes and he could almost taste victory. Something in his blood flickered in answer to her raging emotions.

He reached out and tugged sharply on her braid, not allowing himself more than the briefest contact with her. "Unless you're still frightened." He took a perverse pleasure in getting under her skin, in knowing that he could get to her just as much as she got to him.

"The only thing that frightens me is how _very much_ I want to throttle you." He watched the violence brewing behind her eyes, the feral glint that took root there but he knew it wasn't directed at him. Not all of it at least. She was practically burning with it and that's what he needed.

"Hone it - the anger." He spoke softly, like he would to a skittish animal, trying to coax her into actually listening to him for once. Aelin's face contorted slightly at his cunning but he kept his face passive. Talking her through it, trying to let her know that it was ok to be angry, to be hateful and to use those emotions for herself. After all he had spent centuries trapped within those same dark emotions.

He watched the emotions play across her face, she was too easy to read. He could see the fear in her eyes and the loathing and bitter disappointment. He had seen that same expression on himself far too many times to not be able to identify them in others but she kept all of her emotions so close to the surface. She would have to learn to conceal them if she were to survive at court with all of it's political machinations.

"This will not end well." The softness of her voice ran along his nerves like a flame over oil, he could hear the note of warning in it. She had no faith in her ability to control herself, her power, but he knew that she could that she was doing so unconsciously every second. He refused to give in to her fear even as he spiraled down into himself in preparation to combat anything she might throw at him.

Rowan could tell the exact moment she gave herself over to those emotions, felt the hesitation vanish like smoke. The light of her transformation almost blinded him but he refused to look away. His chest swelled with triumph and he grinned, challenging her to try and keep up with him. He moved swiftly to pull on her silky hair again, anticipating how she would move to intercept him and darting to her other side. He pinched her side then moved back to his original position all before she could react.

Rowan could feel his blood pounding, with the exhilaration of it. His eyes traced along the delicate points of her ears where they peeked out from her hair and he had to clamp down hard on the need to dart forward and run his fingers down them. It had been a long time since he'd been able to be this relaxed, he wondered if she'd be able to keep up with him. Aelin crossed her arms in one of her typical displays of petulance but he wasn't going to settle for that today. He darted to the left, so intent on hitting his target again that he didn't have time to react as she spun out the way, slammed her elbow down forcefully and them smacked him around the back of his head.

He froze completely in shock. _She'd just_ _smacked him around the head?_ He'd expected her to go for a punch not to smack him around the head like an errant child. He watched the satisfied smirk spread across her face, and took in the suddenly elongated canines behind those pretty red lips. Rowan bared his teeth right back; she was going to pay for that.

"Oh, you'd _better_ run now." He lunged at her but she shot away from him and into the trees at surprising speed. She was adjusting better this time, he chased after her at an easy pace. He watched in awe as she darted through the trees, already going swifter and her footing surer. He allowed his instincts to guide him in his pursuit of her and marveled at the way she moved; how easily she seemed to sense him near her.

Then she was going even faster and he could taste her delight as it crackled through her and she reveled in the speed. He decided that he had given her enough time to adjust and increased his pace. Aelin only ran faster, expertly dodging the trees as if she had been doing this her whole life. There was something like pride settling in his chest as she threw herself forward. Her cries of excitement rang out clear as a bell in the silence of the forest and he wanted to shout in answer.

Aelin's excitement was contagious, he could feel his magic reaching out to her wanting to play with that fire of hers but he held it back. Instead he increased his speed and lunged for her but she whirled away from him in a fluid movement and he could easily understand how she had been known as a fearsome assassin. There was the slightest softness in her features but it was her eyes that gave away her emotions. They sparkled in the morning sunlight, the blue glowed like crystal and the gold shimmered with pleasure.

They raced together through the trees. It had been decades since Rowan had been this close to anyone but the other members of Maeve's inner circle. There were very few fae who could even keep up with him, who he could think of as an equal. The idea of her being his equal should have been laughable but he knew deep down that her power was vast enough and her strength deep enough. It was what made his magic sing, a force as deep and powerful as his to war with.

At this speed she was no more than a golden blur at his side, a light in the darkness for him to follow. For the first time in so very long Rowan allowed himself to just take pleasure in the simple contentment of not being alone. The darkness in his soul lifted ever so slightly and without even knowing that it was happening Rowan allowed the first real smile in centuries to grace his face.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – Hi everyone. I'm so sorry that it's been so long since I updated this. Life has just been a bit hectic lately and I made the mistake of starting A Court of Thorns and Roses while I was ill and it took over my brain for a while. I'm sure many of you know the feeling. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, it's not the longest but I have already started on the next chapter.

Chapter 5

Rowan lay out under the stars, staring up at the small patches of sky he could see between the branches. He should be sleeping but so far it had elluded him. Aelin was asleep just a few feet away and his fae ears could detect every soft breath. He resolutely refused to glance in her direction; he would not give in to such weaknesses.

The events of the day played through his consciousness. She had made progress with her shift at least even if they had not garnered any new information from the locals. The elation and pride he had felt that morning as they raced through the forest seemed like a very long time ago. Those feelings had been almost immediately swallowed by the void of feeling within him when they stopped. He'd watched the same feelings mirrored in her face and any trace of his good mood vanished.

He'd been distracted and distant as they walked into the town and forgotten to command Aelin to shift back into her human form before they entered. This only served to further infuriate him as the villagers closed ranks just as he knew they would. Then Aelin had gone and changed everything by _shopping._ He had to admit that it was impressive, the way she had walked from store to store and enchanted every storeowner in the place. Some part of him slipped into a role he hadn't played in centuries, following behind her dutifully and carrying every item she bought like he had for his cousins when he was younger. He shook his head slightly at the thought of how his younger self would have coped with the brazen girl; she'd of eaten him alive.

Rowan couldn't even bring himself to resent how much of his money she had spent, it wasn't like he needed it anyway and it had gotten them what they wanted. Even if the information had proven nonexistent it still gave them some more insights. He'd also learnt more about the young woman he was supposed to be training. There had been such a look of pleasure on her face as she devoured those chocolates that he'd had to look away for his own peace of mind, gruffly refusing her offer to share them with him. Then she'd looked almost reverent in the bookshop as she ran her fingers along the spines of the books, tracing their titles.

There were too many facets to her personality for him to believe that he had a complete picture of her but he felt as though he was slowly beginning to piece her back together. There was the girl who had been Aelin Galathynus; the juvenile who became Celaena Sardothian, a notorious and deadly assassin, and Elentiya the broken creature he had found on that rooftop in Varesse. No doubt she had worn more skins than those during her short life but each one of them formed a part of the whole. It was like staring at a broken mirror, each shard reflecting one tiny aspect of her and he was painstakingly trying to fit each jagged piece back into the frame.

Against his will his mind conjured up the image of her flirting with the stable boy in an attempt to gain information. The idiotic boy had not been able to look past her Fae appearance to respond to her and he had been almost glad as he watched from the nearby rooftop in his hawk form. There was some primitive part of him that had wanted to swoop down there and take her away, if the boy had responded he might not have been able to hold back. His mind turned away from the image of the alluring smile she'd plastered on her pretty face and he focused more on analyzing what they had learned. This creature was clearly sentient if it could choose it's victims so carefully and it seemed to be steering clear of the towns.

He frowned up at the canopy, that was really all they had learned and it seemed very little now that he thought of it. He glanced at the girl as she slept soundly just a few feet away, he didn't think he'd ever seen her look so peaceful. The usual glower was missing from her face and she looked younger. She moved slightly in her sleep and he quickly looked away in case she awoke and found him staring at her.

When her movements ceased he looked back over to her and found that she had shifted onto her side, one hand outstretched towards him. The moonlight seemed almost drawn to her as it made her golden hair glow almost silver in the darkness, and caressed the pointed tips of her ears. Those Gods damn ears. He gritted his teeth and resolutely rolled over so that he could no longer look at her.

Unfortunately just because he could no longer physically see her didn't mean that he could stop himself from thinking about her; remembering the taste of her blood on his tongue. He gritted his teeth and tried to push away the memory of how it had felt to sink his teeth into her neck with her lithe body pinned against him. Against his will his blood burned, not with hatred or rage. Not with the cold fury that had become so familiar over the centuries but with something new, something distinctly _her_.

He rolled back over to look at her. Was this how she felt? Did her blood constantly burn with this unbearable heat? It would certainly explain her attitude, just the slightest provocation sent those slumbering embers roaring into an inferno. Rowan let his eyes wander over her, from her face down to that outstretched hand. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt some kind of pull to reach out to her and offer her whatever comfort she unconsciously sought.

Eventually the sounds of the forest lulled Rowan to into a deep sleep. He didn't remember his dreams but when he awoke he found that during the night he had reached out towards her immediately yanking his hand back, Rowan leveled his best icy glare at the still slumbering princess. He regretted it as she seemed to curl inwards on herself under the force of his stare. She wrapped her arms around her torso and her brows furrowed. She shivered in her sleep but he didn't think that it was because of the cool morning air.

He pushed himself up from his bedroll and stalked off into the nearby trees to begin gathering wood for a fire. He wasn't going to bother with a fire but they were close enough to the town that the more vile creatures would steer clear of the area. It also gave him an excuse to put some distance between himself and the girl. He moved quietly through the trees, careful not to make any noise that would attract unwelcome attention.

Rowan was unwilling to make his way back to the campsite and be confronted once more with that face. His superior hearing picked up on the change in her breathing and it sent his heart hammering in his chest. He turned and sprinted back towards the clearing, drawing a knife and scenting for any threat.

There was none.

Rowan watched as she tossed and turned in her sleep. He'd not borne witness to her nightmares since that first night and seeing it again now made him realize how deeply the world had failed her. He waited for the screaming and thrashing but it did not come. He waited for the voice that haunted his own dreams, begging and broken. It did not come. What did come was worse.

"I wish I was like the others."

The voice of a child. A child who was afraid of herself, of her powers. Some small fragment of memory flitted through his head, of a debate between some of the ranking families in Doranelle. A debate about _her,_ about the threat that the child might pose them when she reached maturity. Had she been subjected to that in Orynth as well? If a country of Fae across the sea had been concerned about her then her nearest neighbors would have been fools not to consider it.

He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, surrounded by people who were afraid of you. It was no wonder really that she had come to despise her powers. That heat once again began to build under his skin and he had to clamp down on that feral rage. He tried desperately to suffocate those feelings, the need to hunt down every person who had made her feel alone and afraid and rip them limb from limb. Rowan tried to tell himself that it was just his fae instincts, his instinct to protect being called up by the childlike quality to her voice.

Rowan moved away to assemble the fire, something to focus on and keep his hands busy as she awoke from whatever dream she'd been having. It took a long moment for her to focus on her surroundings and he could see the pain and sorrow written into every line of her body. She stared at the scar on her palm and it reminded him of a broken doll, unmoving and devoid of life.

"Do you want breakfast?" The words came unbidden from his mouth but at least she stopped staring at that mark. He commanded her to start the fire, his temper flaring slightly when she questioned the order. Rowan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her when she pointed toward the fire in her attempt to light it.

"Perhaps I like the dramatics." He glared at her and managed to hold back a snort of derision, of course _she_ would like the dramatics. Everything about her was dramatic, from her petty temper tantrums to the colour of her eyes. Rowan took a calming breath and reminded himself that she was at least trying. His own magic sparked in warning as hers awakened, too much and too close to the surface but the logs began to smoke.

Rowan made his voice softer, calming but still commanding as he reminded her about her control. Her face set into an expression of determination but her concentration was frayed, he felt that well open inside of her and the pressure build beneath her skin. He barely had time to shield himself before wildfire was exploding around them.

He threw out his magic, calling wind and ice to encircle them and contain her detonation to as small an area as possible. It took longer than he would of liked to put out that fire and blow away the smoke, her gift was incredibly powerful. Perhaps with the proper training she could be a match even for him, it was no wonder Maeve had wanted her trained. His Queen would do much to control such power. The thought sent an icy shudder down his spine.

He looked up at her; at the horror written into her face as she stared at the damage she had done. He felt her magic die down, like a banked fire. No more than embers now but still there, simmering gently beneath the surface.

Rowan resisted the urge to drop his face into his hands in frustration. They had an awfully long way to go.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note**_

 _Ok so it's been over a year since I last updated this story and I honestly can't believe it's been so long. So firstly I'm very sorry for ghosting on you all, if anyone who originally read this will even look at this again. Basically in the last year my life completely fell apart and I've been battling severe depression as a result of it. My relationship with my partner of six years came to an abrupt and very painful end. I ended up having to quit the job I loved to move back to London with my then two year old daughter. Motivating myself to get up in the morning and go to a job I hated was near impossible. Motivating myself to write was a complete no go. But things are finally starting to get better, my daughter and I now have our own place, I don't hate my new job quite so much as I did and I can stand to be in the same room as her dad without completely breaking down._

 _Because of all that I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, parts of it flowed and other parts I just couldn't write. It might be a bit disjointed from all of the stopping and starting but I think I need to just post it and move on. I have over half of the next chapter written already and parts of the one after so I hope to continue this again soon._

 _I also want to thank everyone who reviewed and favourited and followed any of my stories over the last year. You were rays of sunshine in a very dreary year._

 **Chapter 6**

The rain was pouring down outside the heaving kitchen. Rowan perched in his hawk form, listening to the old chef as he told story after story to the fortress's many inhabitants. He tried not to watch the girl as she sat in the chair by the back door but every time she shifted his keen eyes would be drawn to her. She listened intently to Emrys as he spoke, that sharp mind of hers no doubt cataloging every little detail. She had requested stories of Maeve tonight and he couldn't decide if she was being incredibly smart or incredibly stupid. It was going to be a long while yet before he deemed her ready to enter Doranelle and asking for information about Maeve here, in front of all these witnesses could be a costly mistake. Any one of them could betray her to Maeve in hopes of a reward, which would give her plenty of time to calculate any possible move that Aelin would make with the information.

Aelin seemed to be willfully ignoring his disapproval but there was nothing new there. She didn't care in the slightest what he thought of her, even though it was his approval that she needed to get to wherever it was she was going. Maybe that was why she had asked for the information so publicly, maybe she wanted Maeve to know that she was not going to meet her unprepared. Maybe she wanted Maeve to know that he had not broken her, that she would fight. Then again perhaps he was overthinking the whole thing.

Rowan turned his attention back to the elderly story teller, he knew most of the stories already but there was something about the way Emrys told them that swept you away with them. He had been enjoying the indulgence of listening to the legends and myths of his people these last weeks but now that he was talking of Maeve, her coldness and cruelty, all it did was fill him with a hollowness that was all too familiar. He pushed aside the revulsion, there was no point in thinking about it. He had sworn a blood oath to his immortal queen and he would serve her for eternity.

Once he had been naive enough to believe that the world could be a better place. Once he had believed that this world deserved to be saved. He had dreamed of winning glory and being one of the warriors to shape that new world. Those beliefs and dreams had cost him everything. He had not been content with the good that he had and for his arrogance it had been taken from him. _She_ had paid the price. He would not make the same mistakes.

Rowan was so lost in that darkness, the yawning abyss of his sorrow and rage that it wasn't until his hawk eyes caught the flash of light at the edge of his vision that he realised Gavriel was outside the fortress. He immediately took off from his perch and flew out to meet him. He'd received word weeks ago about the losses Gavriel had incurred on his latest assignment; the burden of it was written on his face.

The rain was cold on his skin as he greeted his comrade, his friend. Gavriel was probably one of the only Fae he'd apply that word to.

"Rowan." He could hear the pain and defeat in just that simple utterance of his name. He returned the greeting, clasping his arm in support.

"I've been looking for you for six weeks." Rowan could hear the dullness in his voice and mentally berated himself for not informing one of his few friends of where he'd be for the moment. Then again he hadn't expected to be here for this long, he'd been betting on her quitting and going home by now. He pulled himself back to Gavriel's babbling and interrupted him before he said too much.

Gavriel followed him in from the rain, they took a different route into the fortress avoiding any of the prying eyes from the kitchens. Rowan led him upstairs to his chambers and threw some extra logs on the fire. No doubt this would be a long night. Gavriel slumped into one of the chairs at Rowan's worktable and dropped his head into his hands. Rowan strode around the room, clearing away the maps and plans from the table. He knew what Gavriel was here for without him even asking. The sorrow in his eyes told all.

As Rowan began mixing together the ink, adding the fine iron shavings to prevent Gavriel's Fae blood from undoing all of his work, Gavriel pulled off his shirt and lay down on the table. He memorised the names of the fallen quickly and set to work on the design, tracing it out on tan skin while Gavriel stared straight ahead, his eyes misty and unseeing.

"Ready to begin?" Gavriel nodded and Rowan set to work, carving the story of loss into Gavriel's skin as the warrior told him all that had happened. It was gruelling work and the atmosphere was heavy with both of their pain, built up throughout the centuries until it was almost a living thing. Rowan's back and hands were cramping, when there was a soft knock at the door. Gavriel immediately ceased his prayers and both their heads snapped up to look at the door.

"Who is it?" Gavriel's voice was hoarse from talking so long. Rowan glared at the door, who on earth would be stupid enough to come up here unannounced when he had company? The answer was glaringly obvious and Rowan could feel his blood begin to boil. He snapped for whoever it was to enter.

The door eased open and there she was. How dare she come up here without his permission? How dare she interrupt something so important, so private? Didn't she understand that there was no place for her here? That she was not welcome. Rowan was barely listening to her pathetic reasoning for coming here, he'd slipped into an almost lethal rage. Noting the way she observed the room, studied his friend and the markings he'd made on him. His nostrils flared, the barely contained anger cracking through the surface.

He needed her out. There were too many ghosts in this room as it were. He snarled at her, as she tried to buy herself time and watched each step she took across his room. Every easy and nonchalant movement, completely oblivious to what he and Gavriel were suffering. The tone of her parting words had him snapping the needle in his fist, cutting into his palm. Hateful girl. The door shut behind her and she was gone but the scent of her remained.

"Who was that?"

"Nobody. She's nobody. Just an assignment." Gavriel studied him intently and the questions there had Rowan up and striding out the door before his friend could utter a single word.

Rowan threw open the door, if she knew what was good for her she would have fled back to her room the second she'd left. However her completely useless sense of self-preservation had once again failed her. There she was leaning against the wall, her back to him, waiting. He stalked towards her. The corridor was suffocating, too small to contain the black anger that flowed from him. He opened his mouth to berate her, lecture her on interrupting something that was private and personal, but she beat him to it. He wanted to smack that disgusting look off of face, some small insignificant part of him knew that she was goading him that he shouldn't rise to the bait. He clenched his fists, shoving down the instinct to fight even as his mouth widened in an almost primitive snarl.

"You know, it might be better if you just slapped me instead." Rowan fought back the urge to do just that. His temper was too frayed to allow for physical violence, he'd snap her neck without even meaning to.

"Instead of what?" It was a dangerous question to ask but tonight Rowan was beyond caring. He watched her with lethal intensity, taking in every breath, every slight movement. The way her lip curled, the straight line of her teeth, the sparks of hardened gold in her gaze.

"Instead of reminding me again and again how rutting worthless and awful and cowardly I am. Believe me, I can do the job well enough on my own. So just hit me, because I'm damn tired of trading insults. And do you know what? You didn't even bother to tell me you'd be unavailable. If you'd said something, I never would have come. I'm sorry I did. But you just _left_ me downstairs." Rowan burned with a cold fury, he owed her nothing.

"You left me." Rowan inhaled sharply. The words echoing in his head over the pounding of the blood in his ears. The world went still. Something inside of him cracked, the force of it so strong that he half expected the very foundations of Mistward to shake with it. Then came the screaming. Loud, piercing screams that chilled his blood. They were the screams of his mate as she was butchered because he had left her alone.

Rowan was no longer standing in that hallway he was stood in the mountain passes above Doranelle. Staring at the ruins of his home; at the blackened bones that were all he had left. Still the screams continued, her voice begging for him to save to her and their child. The darkness and desolation wrapped around him like a blanket, blotting out all light. He welcomed it. He knew the darkness of his soul better than anything, he'd kept it sealed beneath ice for so long but it was always there. Always waiting.

"I have no one left. No one." The very air around him seemed to roil, like the moment before a storm hits. What did she know of loss? Of loneliness? She was just a petulant child. She could not possibly understand the weight of sorrow and guilt that dogged his steps every damn day for the last two centuries. He did not care to know what she imagined to be equal to his pain. He stared into those eyes, seeing nothing but his own reflection and foolish pride. The beast within him blinked awake, roaring up from the depths of that abyss as he struck out with his own hatred and self loathing.

"There is nothing I can give you. Nothing I _want_ to give you." He spat the words at her, unable to stop them as they poured from his mouth. "You are nothing to me, and I _do not care."_

As Rowan watched her turn and walk away a small insidious voice whispered through the darkness. Telling him that she had been right. It would have been much better if he'd slapped her instead.

When Rowan stormed back into the room, Gavriel had moved to sit on the bed, the bowl of stew in his hands. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, to push back the darkness that had crept into him.

"I'd never thought of you as cruel Rowan, cold perhaps, but never cruel."

Rowan flinched and stiffened before turning slowly to face Gavriel. His face was an icy mask, his eyes blazing with an icy rage. One that had been hidden far more deeply for a long time.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" He bit out through gritted teeth.

"No, I don't think what you just did to that girl was in the least bit funny."

"She is not worth your concern." Rowan turned away, brushing aside Gavriel's comment with a too casual shrug of his shoulders. Gavriel narrowed his eyes at the warrior before him, the centuries had hardened Rowan but he had never treated anyone so callously before, no one who did not deserve it at least. What had that girl done to deserve such treatment?

"Isn't she?" Gavriel glanced pointedly at the now empty bowl of stew sat on the bed. No one else had thought to bring them anything, either they hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. Or maybe they just weren't prepared to face the ice prince's wrath for interrupting. Rowen just glared back, ignoring his words. "She showed concern at least, perhaps she deserves some in return."

Rowen let out a snort of derision.

"Do not for one second believe that her motives for coming up here were innocent."

Gavriel shrugged his shoulders, in just the few moments that she had been in the room he'd been able to scent her. There was something different about Rowan's scent but he'd not been able to place it until the girl had walked in. The change was subtle, barely noticeable but Gavriel could scent the girl on him. It went deeper than just the result of spending a great deal of time together. What was she to Rowan? What was Rowan to her? Gavriel has seen it in her eyes, that deep-rooted loneliness and sadness that seemed to live in them all.

"Perhaps not, but maybe they weren't as sinister as you wish to believe."

"She is an enemy of our Queen." Rowan snarled, a lesser fae would have backed down immediately from that look but Gavriel had known Rowan long enough to see past it. There was more going on here than Rowan wished to see, and Gavriel would be damned if he didn't at least try to prevent his friend from doing more irrevocable damage to that girl. That girl with Ashryver eyes.

"Then why train her? Why help her to become more of a threat?" He challenged.

"I do not question my orders and neither should you." Rowan spat the words at him.

"You would have once." Rowan slammed his hand down on the table so hard he left a dent in the thickness of the wood, upsetting the ink pot and staining the table top.

"Enough, Gavriel!" He snarled, then his shoulders slumped and he said again in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "Enough."

Gavriel finally fell silent. Rowan could feel his eyes on him as he moved methodically to clean the table, checking the remaining ink to make sure it hadn't spoiled. Gavriel moved back to the table without another word, and Rowan continued to mark him. The silence stretched out between them but neither was willing to break it. It was several hours before Gavriel resumed his confession

The methodical movements of the needle and ink in his hands allowed Rowan to begin to calm himself. To quell the raging darkness but the emptiness that followed was worse. He followed the pattern mechanically without really seeing it, all his mind wanted to dwell on was the look in her eyes as she turned away. Those dead eyes.

What had he done?


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you to everyone, as always, who added this story to their favorites, followed and especially those who reviewed and reached out with their words of support and encouragement. I really appreciated every one of them. This chapter has been a long time coming and I hope you all enjoy.**

The streets of Doranelle were heaving with people but that was to be expected on market day. Rowan moved through the crowds with ease, his height and strength automatically made the fae around him shift out of his path, even if they didn't know who he was. It was a beautiful day; the sun shining in a cornflower blue sky and a warm breeze flowing around them carrying the scent of flowers from the market. Rowan inhaled deeply, his broad chest expanding as he took in the intoxicating scents of Jasmine and lemon verbena. Something about the flowers seemed to call to him, a deep-rooted pull in his gut urging him forward, begging him to follow. Rowan took a step forward, obediently following that invisible thread. He began to weave through the throngs of people.

With every step that he took that pull in his gut tightened, urging him to move faster. Faster and faster until he was pushing and shoving his way through the crowds, completely uncaring of the faceless Fae that he shoved aside in his frantic quest. The scent of those flowers clouded his senses until it and that ever-increasing tug forwards were all he could think about. Rowan lost sight of his surroundings; he didn't notice the brightly coloured market stalls or the lone owl circling overhead. Soon he was sprinting through the streets of Doranelle, the pounding of his blood blocking out sound and his lungs burning as he pushed himself into a breakneck pace. He rounded the corner to the market, his feet never faltering even as they hit dirt instead of the neat paving stones of the Capital.

The trees passed by in a blur, his Fae eyes picking out the brightness of the random light shafts that speared down through the thick canopy. He could still scent that sweet smell on the breeze leading him deeper into the forest but there was something else mixed with it now. Rowan inhaled deeply, drawing the scent deep within himself. There was an earthier scent mingling with the sweet jasmine and it reminded him of the bonfires burning on Beltane, their brightly coloured sparks leaping into the air.

Ahead of him he could see movement between the trees. Another Fae was running; no more than a whisper of shadow darting ahead of him between the ancient trunks. Rowan pushed himself impossibly faster, hurtling through the trees and leaping over obstacles with the surefooted ease of some great mountain cat. His eyes were trained ahead of him, focusing only on that shadowy figure running so swiftly through this quiet world. Every instinct roared at him to catch them; he was the predator and they were his prey.

The figure passed through one of those rare shafts of light and Rowan caught the glint of golden hair before they disappeared back into the darkness of the forest. He couldn't tell if he was gaining on them or if they were slowing to allow him to catch up, taunting him by remaining just out of reach. Rowan growled in frustration which only increased as he heard the female laugh at him, her wicked delight carried back on the breeze. He could see her more clearly now, the long blonde hair flowing behind her like ribbons. Rowan lunged for her but she shifted her lithe form just enough to slip through his outstretched hands, putting on a burst of speed to escape him.

Rowan stumbled but righted himself, barely slowing down as he continued in his pursuit of the infuriating creature. Always she would be just within his reach before she ducked or flipped out of his grasp, the sound of her laughter taunting and teasing him until he too was laughing, wild and free.

Rowan leapt towards her, fully expecting another near miss but instead she turned into him, allowing him to grab her and press her up against the nearest tree with an almost deafening crack. The female didn't seem phased in the slightest. He met her stare, marvelling at the way the flecks of gold in her eyes sparkled like embers in the dappled sunlight. Both of their chests were heaving from the effort and exhilaration of their wild chase.

He pressed her further back against the tree, caging her body in with his. The rough bark bit into the skin of his forearm where he'd placed it beside her head, fingers digging into the tree to steady him. The female continued to watch him with those bright eyes that danced with mischief, her rosy lips curved into a wicked smile. He lifted one hand to her face, running the back of his calloused fingers down her cheek with a gentleness few would believe he possessed before wrapping them into the silken mass of her hair. Her whole face softened at the tenderness of the touch, eyes slipping shut.

The female whimpered as he hovered over her mouth. The sound of it made his whole body clench, the hand gripping the tree tightened causing splinters to cascade down onto the forest floor. Rowan inhaled deeply, the smell of her was so very familiar. With a groan of surrender he crushed his mouth to hers, nipping at her lips as she kissed him back with equal ferocity.

They battled with each other for dominance, control. Fire and ice crackled around them, warring with each other as their magic intertwined. Rowan pulled away from her mouth, instead sliding his mouth down the column of her delicate throat. She gasped as the points of his canines dragged along the highly sensitive skin.

She gasped his name, a plea and prayer on her lips as she arched her neck for him and the sound of it broke him.

"Aelin…" He groaned against her exposed flesh before biting down, his mouth filling with the molten liquid that scorched his throat. The taste of her was divine and completely intoxicating. Small scarred hands wrapped in his shirt drawing him close until he was flush against her soft curves, her body warm and pliant beneath his own.

Then that soft inviting body went rigid, the hands pulling him closer withdrew and then before he could react shoved him violently away. The movement was so quick, so unexpected that he knew there was nothing he could do as his teeth tore out her throat. Rowan stared down at the gaping mess of flesh in horror and agony. Ruby red blood ran in silent rivulets down the graceful curve of her neck, over the chest that had mere moments ago been heaving with life. She still stood pressed against the tree, those bight eyes now looking at him unseeing and devoid of life.

"No…please…" Rowan didn't know what he was asking for or whom he was asking it from as he reached towards her. He grasped her neck, trying to wipe away the red and willing the skin to knit back together, to heal. His fingers were slick with her blood, so much blood. The same blood that he could still taste on his tongue, warm and sweet.

"Aelin please…" Rowan bowed his head over his bloody hands, unable to look into those lifeless eyes any longer.

"You left me." The taste of her turned to ash in his mouth, choking him. "You left me, I have no one left. No one." His head snapped up to look at her, to tell her she was wrong, to beg and plead with her. However, even as he reached for her he heard his own voice spitting his poisonous words at her.

"You are nothing to me, and I do not care." The harsh words seemed to echo between them and she remained silent crumpling to the ground like a rag doll. The world around them faded away into darkness until all that was left was Rowan and the corpse of the woman he had so cruelly and selfishly broken. Eventually she too began to fade away, her shattered body disintegrating like so much ash. Ash that now coated his clothes and hair, clogging his nose and mouth.

There were flames in the distance and Rowan trudged wearily towards them. Just ordinary flames, a mockery of the bright wildfire that burned with Aelin. He surveyed the new scene numbly. The pretty house sat nestled in the peaceful mountain pass, the neatly kept flower garden surrounding it and the flame blackened doorway.

Rowan walked through the sea of muted flowers, their sweet scent suffocated by smoke and ash. He walked through the doorway, the door itself had been cleaved from the frame, and faced the bright orange flames that consumed what had once been his home. Rowan stepped into the flames that did not burn, walking until he faced her. Faced his mate, the woman he had so badly failed. She had flowers in her hair; small jasmine blossoms woven between the dark strands.

"You left me." It was just a statement, there was sorrow in her tone but no judgement or accusation. Lyria wrapped her arms around her abdomen and looked up at him with anguish filled eyes, exactly how he had last seen them when he abandoned her to go fight Maeve's war. "You left _us._ "

Rowan had no words to say to her, nothing that could put this ghost to rest. The flames burned hotter and brighter. He choked on the thick black smoke that coiled around him until there was nothing left but blackened earth and the ruins of his once happy home.

Rowan shot up in his bed, ice curling around his fingertips as he reached for a blade with the other. He gulped down air as he surveyed the room, heart pounding in his chest. The tattoo tools from last night were still on the table and Gavriel slept soundly were he lounged in one of the chairs.

Rowan relaxed slightly at the lack of threats, shaking himself to try and rid his mind of the remnants of that dream which refused to fade. He stared at the bowl sat innocently on the side table. Right at that moment Rowan would have greatly enjoyed pounding the insignificant object into dust. He could smell the beginnings of breakfast wafting up to his room and knew that he could only have slept for an hour or two at most. He wondered if she would still be here and what he would do if she wasn't. He had no idea what he would say to her once their paths crossed, the thought of facing her after what he had said last night was unpleasant but the thought of her leaving was worse. He knew those eyes. Knew what they meant. She would go out into that forest full of monsters and seek out new scars to atone for whatever sins she carried. If the price for those sins was her death then she would willingly accept it.

Rowan would not. He looked down at his hands, still splattered with ink in places but no blood. Not yet. He rose and walked to the window, carefully opening the shutters and allowing the first rays of the sun to warm his face.

Rowan felt something within that warmth, as if it were alive. He closed his eyes and raised his face to that comforting presence. The warmth was like a caress against his skin and he inhaled sharply, feeling something echo within him at that touch. Something that he had thought shattered and broken beyond repair that whispered to that phantom touch. It whispered back. Just one word that seemed to reverberate within every dark recess of his mind and soul, the answer to a question he dared not ask.

 _Fireheart._


End file.
